py man! There were
moments in which the mild spirit of Christ won upon his evil mood 'tis
true; but the picture was, in general, that of revenge so fierce, that the
powers of hell alone could give it birth in a human heart. He had with him
an infant of an age just, fitted to be taken from the breast. This child
appeared to awaken the fiercest conflicting feelings; he both yearned over
it and detested its sight, though hatred seemed most to prevail."

"This was horrible!" murmured the Doge.

"It was the more horrible, Herr Doge, that it should come from one who was
justly condemned to the axe. He rejected the priests; he would have naught
of any but me. My soul lothed the wretch--yet so few ever showed an
interest in us--and it would have been cruel to desert a dying man! At the
end, he placed the child in my care, furnishing more gold than was
sufficient to rear it frugally to the age of manhood, and leaving other
valuables which I have kept as proofs that might some day be useful. All I
could learn of the infant's origin was simply this. It came from Italy,
and of Italian parents; its mother died soon after its birth,"--a groan
escaped the Doge--"its father still lived, and was the object of the
criminal's implacable hatred, as its mother had been of his ardent love;
its birth was noble, and it had been baptized in the bosom of the church
by the name of Gaetano."

"It must be he!--it is--it must be my beloved son!--" exclaimed the Doge,
unable to control himself any longer. He spread wide his arms, and
Sigismund threw himself upon his bosom, though there still remained
fearful apprehensions that all he heard was a dream. "Go on--go
on--excellent Balthazar," added the Signor Grimaldi, drying his eyes, and
struggling to command himself. "I shall have no peace until all is
revealed to the last syllable of thy wonderful, thy glorious tale!"

"There remains but little more to say, Herr Doge. The fatal hour arrived,
and the criminal was transported to the place where he was to give up his
life. While seated in the chair in which he received the fatal blow, his
spirit underwent infernal torments. I have reason to think that there were
moments when he would gladly have made his peace with God. But the demons
prevailed; he died in his sins! From the hour when he committed the little
Gaetano to my keeping, I did not cease to entreat to be put in possession
of the secret of the child's birth, but the sole answer I received was